Lost Between Pages
by FancifulRivers
Summary: Harry's got nothing and no one when he goes off with Snape. He doesn't know what he's expecting, but it can't be any worse than what he had.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Disclaimer that sadly, Harry Potter does not belong to me, I own nothing. JKR thought it up first. This story came to me in a dream, so I've been wandering merrily along and hoping I can do it justice.**

**This story is AU, and set just after seventh year. Voldemort is dead. Dumbledore is alive (as is Severus, obviously). General warning for child abuse, child neglect, and some depictions of violence/past death.**

Harry didn't know why he blurted the words out. He wished he could snatch them out of the air as soon as they slipped past his chapped lips, lingering in the chilly dungeon air. Snape inclined an eyebrow at him, looking more rattled than he'd ever seen the man.

"Sorry," he mumbled, cheeks colouring scarlet. He had to get out. Had to get away. Before the laughter could begin, or the sneered imprecations. The insults upon his parentage, his livelihood, every ounce of himself as a person. He knew all the words, most of them from Snape's own mouth.

"Potter," the Potions Master's voice froze him, halfway out the door. He stopped, a clumsy caricature in baggy school robes and messy black hair. Sweat trickled down the nape of his neck, despite how icy it still was down here.

"Yes, sir?" he managed to croak. He couldn't look at the man. He didn't want to see the triumph gleaming there. Poor pampered _Potter_. Somehow managed to fool the rest of the professors into passing him, and now he didn't even have anywhere to go. He'd wanted to lie, but the memory of Aunt Petunia's starkly worded note was too strong. She'd even passed it on by owl, too, so he knew it was heartfelt (with what little heart she possessed). Don't come back. Don't even think of coming back.

It wasn't like it mattered, really. You Know Who was gone, his Death Eaters rounded up for the most part. The wards had fallen. It had been a bit of a shock to everyone but Harry, and he'd had to field a few uncomfortable looks and probing questions. He'd simply passed it off as an after-effect of You Know Who being defeated. Who knows? Maybe that was it after all.

"If you have nowhere to go, Potter," Snape began slowly. Harry's heartbeat trebled. His palms were sweaty and he wiped them ineffectually on the insides of his sleeves. "If the Weasleys won't take you in," there was an unconscious sneer in the phrase that made his hackles come up. It wasn't that they wouldn't. Never that.

"I suppose you could come with me," the professor finished, with a slight show of reluctance. Harry's jaw dropped and he spun around on his heel, nearly falling.

"What, sir?" he sputtered, rather inelegantly. Snape did sneer at that, and Harry's colour crept back up his neck.

"Do I really have to repeat myself, Potter? If you will-at least _endeavour_ to not be a nuisance, and follow my rules, regardless of your esteemed _age_...I have no particular aversion to you choosing to come with me, if you would like," the man enunciated. "At least for the summer. I trust by then, you will have established some other form of lodging and employment. I'm sure the wizarding world is, after all, full of opportunities for the saviour of us all." His voice dripped with sarcasm by the last phrase, and Harry stared intently at the floor.

"Thank you, sir," Harry mumbled, seizing the opportunity to escape. He didn't know what ephemeral urge had led him to wander down to the dungeons in the first place, but now he blessed it.

"I will expect you in my office tomorrow at eight o'clock sharp, Potter," Snape called after him. "If you choose to be tardy, the offer is rescinded."

"Yes, sir," Harry panted over his shoulder. He still had a great deal of packing to do, but he felt-lighter. The crumpled letter in his pocket suddenly ceased to have any real significance and as he made his way into Gryffindor Tower for the last time, he surreptitiously dropped it in the fire.

"How does it feel, Harry?" Hermione asked from her curled-up position on the nearest sofa. Ron was slouched next to her, his ears as red as his hair as he stole sideways glances at her that she seemed determined not to pick up on.

"Um, what d'you mean?" he asked. Hermione giggled, rolling her eyes.

"You're free," she laughed. "From Hogwarts. It feels like a dream, doesn't it?" A wistful sigh filled the air. "All those books I never got around to studying..."

"_Hermione_," Ron groaned, mock-punching her in the arm. "You can't read every book."

"No, but I can try," she retorted, the quirk of her mouth letting them both know she wasn't serious. "I'm exhausted. I think I want to go up to bed. Are you both going home by train?"

Ron nodded, but Harry shook his head, his face prickling uncomfortably.

"Oh?" Hermione inquired in surprise.

"Dunno why," Harry lied. "Safety, I think."

"Oh, that's rot," Ron said, a bit hotly. "Like you couldn't keep yourself perfectly safe, especially with us around you!"

"I know, but," Harry shrugged, looking away. "It's what Dumbledore wants," he lied again, and the other two sighed in resignation, nodding. He gnawed on his bottom lip as he went up with them both, giving a final wave to Hermione as she disappeared into the girls' dormitory. It was strange to think they would never do that again.

Why had he lied? He pondered as he clambered between the soft, thick blankets of his four-poster. The Dursleys had never given him as nice a bed as this. For most of his childhood, he'd not even _had_ a proper bed, much less blankets or pillows. He'd used his old clothing, the rags that were too worn out even for him. Once he'd socked enough of them away, it was actually relatively comfortable, if still chilly in winter, when the icy air seeped in the cracks of the cupboard under the stairs. Coming to Hogwarts had been a pleasant shock, one that he was reluctant to leave at the start of every summer.

Perhaps it was shame, Harry thought, feeling the hard line of his wand beneath his pillow. It was shameful, wasn't it? Admitting that your only surviving relatives don't want you. Would prefer they never see you again. He hadn't expected to stay there _long_, but he had hoped that with You Know Who dead, perhaps Aunt Petunia at least could soften her heart. Just a bit. Just enough to let him stay there for the summer maybe, figure out what he wanted to do with his life.

It was painful to realise he should have known better.

The question was, Harry mused as he settled into a more comfortable position, was Snape the worse of two options.


	2. Chapter 2

He was surprised when he opened his office door, revealing a drowsy-eyed Potter slouched against the dungeon wall, trunk at his feet and empty owl cage perched precariously atop.

"Good morning," Severus said, a trifle thinly, and saw the boy-no, man, he was leaving Hogwarts, after all-wince.

"Good morning sir," Potter replied. His voice was soft, no hint of defiance. Perhaps he _could_ be taught, after all.

"Come with me," Severus instructed, holding the door open wider. None of his snakes were still around to view this fraternisation, and despite knowing there was no need to play pretense anymore, he still didn't want to be seen with the Boy Who Lived.

"Before you step through the Floo with me, I believe it would be prudent to go over the house rules and a particularly pertinent bit of information," he stated, watching the play of emotions across Potter's face. A flash of anger, a hunch of resignation. Interesting.

"If at any time you believe you cannot abide by these rules, you are welcome to make your own arrangements," Severus continued. "The Weasleys-perhaps Granger's family-"

Potter shook his head.

"No, sir," the boy rasped.

"Very well," Severus said briskly. "Although you may change your mind in a moment. You will be sharing your summer residence with not only me, but Draco Malfoy."

"Why-" Potter started to shout, then clamped his lips shut so quickly, his teeth clicked.

"You are not really entitled to an answer, but I believe I shall give you one anyway," Severus paced toward the fireplace, giving himself a moment to reflect. "You know what happened to Draco's parents." It was not a question. Potter's face paled before he nodded. Both Lucius and Narcissa were currently locked in Azkaban, and there was still muttered talk about Lucius getting the Kiss.

"The Headmaster and I, after my pardon, managed to avoid the same fate for Draco, but the Ministry does not wish him to be let around the magical or muggle world without supervision," Severus bit out. "Thus, for at least half of the summer, if not longer, I have agreed to take him in. If you choose to come with me, you will be on your best behaviour around him, do you understand? You are seventeen now, almost eighteen, and you will act like it. No taunting him about his parents, no schoolyard rivalry."

"Pity you didn't feel that way about him mocking my parents' deaths," Potter mumbled under his breath. Severus's temper flared and he had to recite the ingredients for a Calming Draught in his head before he could respond.

"Just because discipline was not meted out in public does not mean no discipline took place, Potter," Severus retorted icily. "Rest assured I will be having a similar conversation with him before you two are forced to interact with each other. I do not expect you to become friends. I expect you to act like adults."

"Yes, sir," Potter said. His cheeks were stained an ugly red as he stared down at the tips of his trainers. They were surprisingly grubby-looking and Severus made a mental note to ensure that Potter made his way to a Muggle clothing store sometime in the next week. After all, he had no doubt that Hogwarts graduate or not, Dumbledore would still manage to look down on him if the Boy Who Lived was not properly shod.

"As for the rules," Severus continued. "I will be going over them in more detail when I can address both you and Draco, but the short version is as follows. Do not leave the grounds without my permission. There are still rogue Death Eaters about, and you'd be a prize catch. Do not go into any room I have marked off-limits or you will find yourself doubling as Potions ingredients. Treat the house elves with respect, or the same will occur. You will obey my instructions unless you can _politely_ explain what you disagree with. If you behave at my home the way you have behaved at Hogwarts, which is to say, abominably, you will find yourself nursing a rather unpleasant set of consequences. If you wish to be treated as a child, I will be more than happy to oblige."

Severus took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the dungeons seep through his robes.

"I will not, however, turn you out without prior warning," he said, and watched the tension leak out of Potter's shoulders. "Even if all I do is Fire-call Albus, you will not be dumped on the streets."

"Thank you, sir," Potter whispered, and Severus took note of the defensive hunch of the boy's body, the shame that glistened so brilliantly in Lily's green eyes. Not for the first time, he wondered what Potter's life had _really_ been like with Petunia.

"I believe that is enough for the moment," Severus announced. "Time to go."

"Wait," Potter stammered. "Hedwig-will she-I mean..."

"She will find her way through my wards fine, I assure you," Severus said dryly. "I will ensure the wards let her past."

Potter nodded pinkly, and Severus threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace.

"Spinners End!" he declared, and they were off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This unfortunately marks the end of my pre-written chapters (well, pre-written in the sense that I'm copying and pasting from AO3 until this point).**

Draco Malfoy, not to put too fine a point on it, was sulking.

He knew it was childish, knew that if Severus saw that petulant bottom lip, he'd likely be set to scrubbing cauldrons until his birthday, and yet for all that, he still sulked.

It was humiliating, knowing that you couldn't be trusted to your own devices. It had burned when Severus had sent him to Spinners End early, the night before everyone else. "For his own good," his godfather had elaborated, but wouldn't say why. It wasn't like he had anyone to really make his goodbyes to (only Pansy and Blaise, and Theo if he didn't still hate him), but it was the _principle_ of it all.

Draco was very big on the principle of the matter.

Instead, he felt like a properly chastened child, even if it was a bit fun having the house and grounds all to himself for a night. Oh, there were the house elves, but he didn't bother them and they stayed well away from him, aside from telling him when supper was ready and cleaning up his room a bit (though he'd told them not to). Toppy was the head elf, dressed smartly in green and black, and he'd told Draco that they didn't listen to his orders in a snippy voice that nonetheless turned the tips of Draco's ears red.

It's not like he'd meant to sound nasty.

There were a great deal of things, however, that Draco had never meant, and he was still paying for. The Dark Lord, for one. His youth worked for him, much to his surprise. His mother had testified on his behalf. So had Dumbledore, and wasn't that a shock?

The fireplace finally flared to life and Draco straightened with relief on the sofa, firmly sucking his bottom lip back in and endeavouring to look like he'd merely been waiting for the professor's arrival. Severus stepped through in a graceful sweep of robes and stumbling after him, spattered in soot, untidy hair sticking up in furious profusion-

Was Harry "Pain in the Arse" Potter.

"You can't be serious," Draco spluttered before he could stop himself. Potter looked at him, with a bit of resignation in his gaze, before Severus's face filled his vision, stiff and stern and eyes banked with fire.

"I am very serious, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said softly. "You will co-habit with Potter this summer and you will act like an adult about it, or make no mistake, the detentions I handed out at Hogwarts will look like Christmas. Do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal," Draco replied sulkily. Potter was now avoiding his gaze (as well he should, Draco thought with indignation).

"I have already informed Potter of these circumstances and I trust, you will behave, Draco," Severus continued. "I do not expect you to like each other. You do not have to become friends, share confidences, or do anything else beyond get along under this roof."

"Yes, sir," Potter spoke up, and Draco hastily echoed. Despite being an adult now, he still felt like a gobsmacked first year. It was rather unpleasant.

"I meant to inform you without Potter being in the vicinity, but you weren't in your room," Severus said, inclining one eyebrow. "You aren't usually up this early, Draco."

"I couldn't sleep," Draco shrugged, his cheeks pinkening. He had had too many nightmares to sleep properly.

"I can't give you more Dreamless Sleep," Severus informed him quietly. "You've had too many doses in too short a time already, and it is habit-forming. Talk to me later, and we'll work on your meditation."

"Thank you, sir," Draco whispered, painfully aware of Potter bumbling around with his trunk, just within ear shot.

"You two will be sharing a suite," Severus said louder. "Separate bedrooms, but that's about it. I trust that you will be able to _live_ with this?"

Another jumbled chorus of "yes, sir" and the professor smiled thinly.

"Show Potter to his new room, Draco," Severus said. "Then come down for breakfast, both of you. It's time you heard the house rules in their entirety."

"Yes, sir," Potter mumbled, tipping his trunk up on one end.

"Oh, come on, Potter," Draco rolled his eyes, waving his wand at the bloody thing and lifting it in the air. "Did you forget? You can do magic wherever you want now."

"I did actually," Potter admitted, his own face reddening a bit. "Thanks."

Perhaps this summer would be marginally tolerable, Draco thought.


End file.
